Borderline Intervention Cheat Sheet (explicit content)

WARNING: This post contains the thought patterns of someone in an extremely depressed state due to Borderline Personality Disorder. It also contains personal observations on how I best cope with such a state. It is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical or psychology advice.

   When I first started writing on this blog, one of my main "objectives" was to be honest and open about my world, my life. And I feel that I have succeeded in doing that with certain aspects of it. However, when it comes to my personal thoughts and behaviors, I have failed miserably. Whether it has been from fear of being viewed "in that way" or simply trying to move past certain things, I have chosen not to write very much (if any) while in one of my not-so-upbeat states. And that was not my intention. My intention was to turn the world on end, be open and shockingly frank and disclose absolutely everything I could possibly have to hide (inadvertantly or otherwise). But, reality got in my way (as so often it does), and I was afraid of pushing the wrong buttons or saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. And here I am. Still being the same old me.
   Only here's the thing. I'm tired. Worn out. Exhausted. Sick of trying not to say how I really feel. And finding it still gets me absolutely nowhere in the end. I want to be open, to hope that maybe someone else can learn from my mistakes. Think that maybe someone else can be saved a little of the pain I deal with every single day. I'm here. I'm real. And I'm alive.
   I try sometimes to talk to my husband about the way I feel, the way I think, that way I am. But every time I try to bring it up, he counters with something along the lines of "sounds normal" or "what's so different about that" or "everyone does that"... I don't FEEL normal, I don't THINK of myself as being normal, and if this is how NORMAL people feel or think or act, God help us all. No one else will...
   Here's a quick glimpse into a "normal" day in my world: I get up, see Mutt off to work, and schedule ZoKo's assignments for the day. I get the girls up and remind them as to which one needs a shower. Odie gets up and takes a shower if needed. Breakfast is served. Bus waiting time. KiKi gets up. I take a shower if needed. I spend the next several hours helping ZoKo with school work or going into town and helping my mom with random things. B and Odie come home from school around the time Mutt gets home from work. Evening hours are spent reviewing school work, doing chores, and watching tv... Sounds perfectly normal, right?...
   Now for the parts you don't see... You don't see the thoughts in my head. You don't see how hard I have to try in order to focus on things and just make it through each day. You don't see how badly I want to run away and never look back. You don't see how much I regret being here and hate myself for the pain I'm causing to everyone else. You don't see that. You don't see what it's like to spend days at a time where it's hard for me to even drag myself out of bed and somehow manage to not do hateful things. You don't see how much I yell at myself in my own head for what an evil messed up person I know I am. And you sure as heck don't see how much my soul feels like it's burning in its own rage and falling into the black abyss of nothingness...
   Maybe my husband is right. Maybe all of that is normal... Maybe it is normal to constantly think about relieving everyone else of their duties to put up with you... Maybe it is perfectly normal to find yourself fantasizing about holding down the gas pedal and seeing how fast you can ram into a phone pole every time you're behind the wheel alone. Maybe that is normal... Maybe there's nothing wrong with feeling like you're the biggest piece of crap to ever walk this earth and God should have just saved everyone the misery and killed you before it became an issue. Maybe that's how it's supposed to be...
   Whatever part of me that still somehow believes in God (or at least my messed up interpretations of such a possibility) hopes like heck that that isn't normal. That people don't constantly walk around wanting to die. That not everyone wants to slit their wrists when they realize the kids really didn't like their mac cheese, or go drown themselves when their husband doesn't want another cookie (even though he's insisting he really did like the first one). God, how DOES he put up with me?
   I've tried to talk to my family, my friends, complete strangers. And they all say the same thing, it's normal to feel those things sometimes, helps remind you that you're alive. What kind of sense does that make? How is wanting to not be here supposed to make you feel better about being here? I don't know about you, but me feeling miserable and hating myself tends to just escalate and wind up with me hating myself even more...
   So, I'm being honest. These are a few of my problems, a few of my thoughts. Not all of them by any means, I'm not trying to upset anyone or be too harsh. But it's my reality. Here's the thing: While I haven't managed to stop these thoughts, urges, and impulses, I have managed to at least control some of them some times...

Consider this a "How To Survive Borderline Personality Disorder" cheat sheet or hot-key guide:

1: FEELING NEEDED helps a little bit. Having something that matters to you beyond belief, that you care about beyond anything else. And attempting to convince yourself that for some reason (no matter how selfish), that thing needs you. You and you alone, nothing or no one else could possibly suffice. Yeah, I don't believe it, and I know it's crap, and that everyone could do better with someone else (anyone else) in my place, but it still helps to tell yourself that (even when you don't believe it).

2: FEELING WANTED is even better. But that's hard (if not impossible) to accomplish. Little things make the biggest difference here. Sex isn't everything, but it sure is close. Being held and told you're loved and wanted. And yes, I argue this one constantly. Why the heck would anyone love me? It rates right up there with wondering why anyone would pretend to think I'm pretty or cute. I know it's crap. People aren't even good at lying. I know how ugly I am. And I know how unlovable I am. And while I will argue it infinately, I still want to hear it. I don't want to hear that you need me, that you can't live without me. I know that isn't true. Duh, you were alive before we met, right?... Wanting is something different. It means that you know you don't need me, you know you can do just fine without me, but you choose to have me around anyway. It means that you could be anywhere in the world right at this moment, and you choose to be next to me "just because". That's wanting. Or at least the emotional kind.

3: Back to SEX. Some people say it's a drug. They couldn't be more right. It is. Or at least it can be. It can be the best, most wonderful, most personal and unifying act in the world. It can also be the most dreadful, hated, painful, evil, despicible act in the world. All depends on your perspective. I've done it both ways (who hasn't?). And honestly, I love the IDEA of sex. I love flirting with men and teasing them and making them want me. I love feeling desirable, like a special new toy they can't wait to play with. There's nothing more fulfilling than that feeling. Nothing more enticing to me than knowing that someone wants you right then and there, even if it is strictly hormonal and physical. That's also the exact same reason that I hate it when I'm turned down. When the timing isn't right, or something else interferes, or sleep is a necessity. I feel discarded, abandoned, like a favorite teddy bear that's been thrown in the garbage for no reason at all. Not even replaced, just expired. Obsolete.

4: WRITING helps a lot. Depending on what you write. I write my poems. Dark poetry is what it gets labeled. I hate labels. Anyway, it's considered depressing, dark, grim, violent, and even obscurely gruesome or morbid at times. To me, it's not. I find it oddly refreshing. Invigorating. It releases me. Allows me to be who I feel like I truly am, even if just for a few seconds. I get a quick rush of freedom, the feeling of the wind against your face as you fall from the 20th floor. Or at least how I'd imagine it to be... I don't focus on it, I don't think about it. I just write. I feel like I'm burning or drowning or fading and I hear these thoughts flowing through my head, chanting like epics that can't be slowed. And I write them down. Not all of them. But enough of them. And it helps. For a little while.

5: MUSIC is the single most important tool I've found. Pick a song, crank it, and sing your heart out. Do not, however, listen to common reasoning and logic that would have you quietly listening to "feel good" light and sassy music. Heck no. You want something loud that rattles the windows. You want the neighbors to be able to hear ever single world. Clearly. So go for something that will actually make you feel better. Something that says how you feel at that exact moment. "Hurt" and "I Do Not Want This" by Nine Inch Nails are personal favorites. So are "Change" and "For You" by Staind. Then there's always "Disposable Teens" by Marilyn Manson. Go for the explicit crap that lets you feel better right now. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks, right?

6: Nice hot, steaming BATHS. The kind that turn you red. Work wonders. Candles instead of artificial lighting help. So does the previously mentioned loud music.

7: FORGETTING tomorrow. Focus on just making it through today. Tomorrow will be better. Yes, we all know it's a lie, but it is a good one. Just get through today and tomorrow will be here. You can worry about everything then...

8: If all of the above fail miserably, and you still hate yourself, feel like crap, and really want to curl up in a corner and FADE... Then do it. Grab a stuffed animal or a kid (assuming they're still talking to you). Hold them close, have a good cry, and stay there in a dark corner cuddling until you pass out. No matter how long you're out, when you wake up, it won't be NOW anymore. Time passes. Five minutes or five hours. It's the same thing...

   This is a very short post, compared to what I should be providing for input. And I don't know that any of it will matter to anyone else in the world. And maybe my husband is still right, maybe it is all perfectly normal. I'll let you decide. If anyone wants to talk, I'm here. If anyone doesn't want to talk, I'm still here. I promise that I'll post more about this part of my world. Not for you. Not for me. But for my family that has to deal with my crap every single day. And for those people that never could find what works for them, what helps them to deal with their own demons, no matter how real they may be. I love you all. Sweet dreams...